


Balance of Trust

by Lerry_Hazel



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Character Study, Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Gen, Lies, Spies & Secret Agents, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23717431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lerry_Hazel/pseuds/Lerry_Hazel
Summary: "When Robin first announced his 'brilliant' plan – to throw Allan out of the camp, leaving him nowhere to go but to the castle, and then to show grudging willingness to forgive the traitor in exchange for useful information, – Marian nearly screamed in frustration."
Relationships: Allan-a-Dale/Guy of Gisborne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Balance of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, no real Guy/Allan slash, just more convenient tagging.
> 
> Still, not for Guy/Marian fans, for obvious reasons. 
> 
> Also, not for Marian’s fans at all: I’m kinda sorry she came out so cynical and unsympathetic, but while I was trying to make her nicer, the fic got stuck at paragraph two for over a year.
> 
> Finally, no connection to canon plotline whatsoever: because canon Guy is a huge dick in a way that is not excusable with difficult childhood, and has zero chemistry with canon Allan; but since Richard Armitage has yet to play a likable character in a show I don’t find excruciatingly boring and/or disturbing, I tend to eventually come back to “Robin Hood” and pretend most of canon events never happened at all, or at least happened differently.
> 
> Er, are you sure you still want to read it?

*

**

***

When Robin first announced his “brilliant” plan – to throw Allan out of the camp, leaving him nowhere to go but to the castle, and then to show grudging willingness to forgive the traitor in exchange for useful information, – Marian nearly screamed in frustration. It had taken her literally years to maneuver herself into a position where the Sheriff considered her harmless enough yet interesting enough to let her stay by Guy’s side, and now Robin was going to replace her for no reason but his own pig-headed jealousy? And, of all people, with Allan, an outlaw? Not an honest farmer backed into a corner by unbearable circumstances and desperation, but an actual pickpocket and a poacher, who had never been particularly scrupulous about where the roof over his head and the meal in his belly came from?

***

Robin probably counted on Guy’s cruelty to become Alan’s punishment and primary motivation to get back into his, Robin’s, good graces, – mulishly refusing to acknowledge that Guy was not, in fact, inherently cruel: he was just utterly indifferent to other people’s suffering. Admittedly, it didn’t make things easier for the peasants he terrorised, but, unlike some other nobles, Gisborne never went out of his way to hurt or humiliate his servants. So, the second time she witnessed Allan cheerfully finishing Guy’s untouched plate, the fearsome Master-at-Arms’ only reaction a distracted grumble, Marian mentally sent Robin a triumphant smile: just as she had said (or would have, if he had bothered to listen), Guy’s new sidekick was in no hurry to get back to living in the forest. 

The third time, Allan’s hand paused half-way to the food a skittish maid had just left at the edge of Guy’s desk; and then he decisively picked the plate up and put it between Guy and a pile of badly written parchments the Master-at-Arms was painstakingly reading through:

‘Not being funny, Giz, but you actually have to eat something from time to time.’

Guy predictably hissed something very rude about not being a child and not needing a nanny, but nevertheless picked up a piece of bread and started chewing distractedly, his eyes still glued to someone’s barely legible scrawl.

Marian frowned. Allan was probably acting on universal truth she hadn’t fully comprehended before her brief stint in the outlaw camp: that men grew progressively more irritable and aggressive when they were hungry; but years of studying Guy’s behavior had taught her that the main reason he cultivated his volatile menacing presence was because the man had no inner walls at all. As the matter of fact, it was only due to the Sheriff’s blatant manipulations that very few people found the way to the brooding knight’s heart though the, frankly, pathetic defense mechanism. 

Guy treasured the scraps of Vaisey’s twisted affection and still worshiped the memory of his parents: actually, Marian suspected that Robin had first got interested in the Holy Land precisely because of Guy’s ardent recital of his father’s exploits – glorious and unrealistic, as, according to Sir Edward, Rodger Gisborne had left the country when his son had been barely six and hadn’t been particularly diligent about sending word home.

As for Marian herself, she once happened to be in the right time and right place to clean and stitch an ugly gash on Guy’s forearm when all the healers were occupied with more seriously injured guards and all the servants had already learnt enough about the new Sheriff not to care his henchman’s arm might rot off. The simple act of – not even kindness, just common courtesy – had earned her Guy’s unconditional undying loyalty, which was often overwhelming and inconvenient, but, she had to admit, a temptingly reassuring thing to have.

Now it looked like Allan was about to gain the same advantage.

Things got even worse when Guy eventually threw one of his fits, where he reduced both dummies in the training yard into fine-grinded sawdust and any unfortunate sparring partners into piles of barely moving bruised flesh, and then fell into bed with raging fever. As usual, Marian braved the Master-at-Arms’ chambers, allegedly to inquire about his health and hopefully to find out if whatever had enraged him in the first place was something noteworthy. Instead, she found Allan – a bruise blossoming on his cheek where he had been backhanded for bringing Guy a soothing drink he clearly needed but was too proud to ask for – kicking the door open with a basin of cold water and a washcloth in hand.

In the morning they appeared at breakfast growling at people in unison, like a huge slick attack dog and a shaggy mongrel – no way to tell which one more protective of the other. Marian barely touched her food, longing to jump on her horse and make her way to Sherwood: part of her wanted to see Robin’s face when he learned how spectacularly his plan had backfired, but mostly she truly needed to let them know that things were about to get ugly. Not so much because Allan might be more willing to disclose the outlaws’ secretes now then they got along: if there was anything useful to be learnt, Gisborne could have just kept torturing him; but because Guy himself became much more difficult to beat into submission when he felt someone he cared about depended upon him.

***

Marian cursed as she finally found a quiet enough corner to check the content of the parchment. She had hoped to put it back before its absence was noticed, tricky as it would be to provoke Guy into opening the clasps of his doublet before spontaneously kissing her _again_. Looking at the letter now, she realised that was no longer an option; and she couldn’t even hope to accurately copy the intricate curly lines of presumably Saracen writing. No, she would have to smuggle the original to the camp for Djaq to translate: which would mean somehow walking all the way to the stables and then riding all the way to the gates, while her dress lacked any convenient inner pockets.

‘Are you out of your mind?’ a familiar voice hissed angrily as Allan stepped out of the shadow. ‘You’ll never make it, Giz will know it was you who took the letter, which isn’t even worth it in the first place. Just a routine report from their agent in Acre, confirming King Richard still shows no intention of going back to England.’

‘How could you possibly know that?’ Marian scoffed haughtily.

Allan shook his head in exasperation:

‘Because I was there when Giz read it to Vaisey! Come on, give it here,’ – the parchment was unceremoniously yanked out of her hand. ‘I’ll leave it back at the balcony where you – with any luck, Giz will convince himself he dropped it in the, eh, heat of the moment.’

‘No way!’ Marian exclaimed, reaching out to yank the parchment back, when suddenly –

‘What the hell is going on here?!’ Guy thundered, approaching in three long strides, two guards hurrying after him a few steps behind. As soon as he saw Marian, he had to stop his hand half-way to touching his lips, and she knew he was about to connect the dots. So, mentally asking for Allan’s forgiveness and promising to work harder on convincing Robin to take the traitor back, she carefully stepped away from the parchment, leaving her hand in the air in the universal “No harm done” gesture, and answered in profoundly regretful tone:

‘What was bound to eventually happen when you put your trust in a pickpocket from Robin Hood’s gang.’

Allan looked at her in silent horror. Guy looked away, the last sliver of warmth bleeding away from his eyes.

‘Guards!’ he barked hoarsely, his pale face freezing into an emotionless mask, ‘Escort Lady Marian to the dungeons.’

***

When Guy came to her cell a couple of hours later, his eyes were bloodshot in a way that, combined with a different outfit and slightly damp hair, spoke less of crying and more of screaming and throwing things, but otherwise he was perfectly composed as he let her out and silently led her to the stables, of all places. There, with an ugly smile that indicated he was going to actually enjoy whatever cruelty he was about to perform, rather then just pull through on Sheriff’s orders, he once again unclasped his jacket, took out the infamous parchment, and presented it to her with a mocking bow.

‘Why are you doing this?’ Marian asked warily.

‘I like to imagine you telling Hood what you had to go through in order to provide him with this useless piece of drivel. Also, the messenger reported barely escaping your little outlaw friends on his way to the castle, and I don’t want them to come harass Allan about it.’

‘He doesn’t care about you either,’ Marian spit out vengefully. ‘He only came to you because he had no other choice.’

‘On the contrary, he had a choice, and he chose to try his chances with me. But it’s nice to finally be perfectly clear about where _we_ stand,’ Guy sneered. ‘Try not to stay out too late. The Sheriff might start questioning your whereabouts, now then I won’t _care_ to cover for you anymore.’

He finished saddling her horse and strode outside dismissively, but didn’t go very far. As she rode away, she saw him hitting the stone edge of the well several times, before Allan appeared out of nowhere and fearlessly pulled the thankfully gloved hand away.

‘I’m sure she didn’t mean it, Giz,’ he mumbled with a too-cheerful smile.

‘I’m sure she did,’ Guy replied gloomily, and then visibly shook himself. ‘But, perhaps, I needed to hear that. Come on, the armory won’t inventory itself.’

Marian watched them go back to the castle side by side till the gates closed after her, and thought that if she wanted to get on well with both of them again, she’d have to utilise a completely different approach. 

*****

END

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**Author's Note:**

> So, that was a little half-assed, but I really didn’t want to have 13 stories on my account :-P 
> 
> And, frankly, it’s high time I got done with the fandom. Or maybe, now then I’ve given up hope, someone will write a proper story about Guy choosing Allan over Marian: as in, she’s still the love of his life, but deep down he knows they’ll never be together, and meanwhile, Allan is the only one who actually likes him as he is, rather than acknowledges his potential to improve…


End file.
